


Break

by sennalee



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Desperation, M/M, Omorashi, Pre-Relationship, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 00:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14344038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sennalee/pseuds/sennalee
Summary: "Well, if Yusuke so obviously thought it’d be more trouble than it was worth getting Akira back in the proper pose, then Akira would just have to get through this without a break.Challenge accepted,Akira thought with a smirk."





	Break

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly hi everyone if you don't know what 'omorashi' means please google it before reading! :) 
> 
> Secondly I know I labeled this as AkiraxYusuke, and honestly, that was kind of what I had in mind while writing it, though it is firmly pre-relationship at this point (hence why that is also a tag). Just wanted to clarify that so no one's disappointed when the shipping isn't blatant.
> 
> ANYWAY. Now that my random warnings are out of the way, I do hope you enjoy the fic! This was fun to write, so I hope it's just as fun to read. ^__^

“I’m locking up for the night,” Sojiro called up the stairs, jolting Akira’s attention away from the art documentary droning on his television.

Akira shouted down a good night to Sojiro before turning slowly to face the artist sitting beside him. “How long did you say this movie was again?”

“It’s just about done…Ah, see, there are the credits now!” Yusuke exclaimed, as if this was some sort of grand discovery.

Akira only sighed, flopping down onto his bed and burying his face in his pillow.

“Wasn’t that incredible? I’m sure you’d never heard of at least half those artists before. There are so many glorious works of art out there that are unknown to the general public.”

“Yes, it was wonderful,” Akira said without lifting his head, words muffled by the pillow. “Reminds me though, I’ve been meaning to ask … Have you ever thought of doing a portrait of someone? Other than Ann, I mean.”

“I have, of course, considered it. I have come across a few worthy subjects since Ann rejected my requests, but I doubt any of them would agree to modeling.”

“Why do you think that? You’re talented and pretty well-known.” Akira purposely didn’t mention that a lot of that fame was still based mostly on Madarame’s influence and name, but with the sour look on Yusuke’s face, it seemed his friend had taken it in such a way regardless.

“I think that because most all of them would have no time to give to me on such an endeavor. For example, I’ve considered painting you, Akira, quite often. While you may not have stuck out to me in the beginning, the longer I spend with you the more your kind personality bleeds through. A portrait of you could indeed be my next masterpiece, but you have so much more to worry about than participating in my mere whims.”

“A painting of yours could hardly be called a whim. You shouldn’t think so lowly of yourself or your work. Besides, if you had only _asked_ me, I would’ve agreed. I’m agreeing now—I’d be honored to have you paint my portrait.”

The glint in Yusuke’s eye couldn’t be missed, even as he looked away, deep in thought.

“I’ll have to run home to grab my supplies, but this is an opportunity I can’t deny! Such a painting…Nothing could beat _Sayuri_ when it comes to beauty, but this could come close, if only my brush allows the correct feelings through…”

“Yusuke, it’s late. It’s the middle of summer break. Go home and get some rest, and tomorrow you can come back with all your supplies and start working, okay?”

“Yes, yes, it is late, isn’t it?” Yusuke’s brow was scrunched, as if he was still deep in thought. “I’ll need to make sure I have the right paints. I might need to stop at the store tomorrow,” he mumbled to himself.

“I’ll be here all day,” Akira assured him. “You can even stay overnight if you want. Sojiro won’t mind. But for _now_ , you should get home, since you can’t do anything without your paints and canvas.” Akira punctuated this by getting up and placing gentle hands on Yusuke’s shoulders, steering him across the room and down the stairs.

“I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, then,” Yusuke said as he was led right out of LeBlanc.

“Have a good night,” Akira said before shutting and locking the door.

So. A portrait. He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh before trudging back up the stairs. He supposed it was a good thing that Morgana had decided to stay with Futaba for the week.

 

\---

 

Akira was behind the counter washing dishes when the bell above LeBlanc’s door jingled. It wasn’t until he heard a subtle cough behind him that Akira shook the water off his hands and turned to see Yusuke, a canvas tucked under his arm and a bag slung over his shoulder.

“If now isn’t a good time, I can come back tomorrow,” he said, eying the sink full of dishes.

Before Akira could respond, Sojiro glanced over from the counter. “I can handle things from here. Go spend time with your friend.”

“There you go,” Akira said with a smile, giving Sojiro a wave and nod in thanks. He turned to lead Yusuke up the stairs, untying his apron as he went. Once upstairs, Akira messily folded the apron and tossed it onto his desk.

“What were you thinking for this painting, then? Not a nude portrait, I hope,” Akira laughed, though his mirth quickly died off as he saw the blush slowly creeping up Yusuke’s face. “Oh…Uh, I’d rather not take _all_ my clothes off?”

“That’s fine. Your comfort is paramount here, but it would be an experience to paint your impressive musculature.”

This time it was Akira’s turn to blush. Trying to hide his rapidly heating face, he turned away and tugged his shirt over his head. “I’m not going to take _everything_ off,” he mumbled. No response came from Yusuke, so Akira wasn’t even sure if his friend heard him as he dropped his shirt on his desk and began shucking off his pants.

He finally turned around to see a bright red Yusuke looking very intently at the attic wall.

“There. Is this good enough?” Akira forced himself to make eye contact with Yusuke despite knowing full well that he was standing in the middle of the attic in nothing but his underwear.

Luckily, his words seemed to break Yusuke out of whatever embarrassment held him, and he was suddenly all business. “This will do perfectly. Now, just sit—” Yusuke walked over and pushed on Akira’s shoulders, plopping him on the bed, “—here. And put your legs like this…”

Akira could’ve fought Yusuke, insisted that he could manage to arrange his limbs without Yusuke pushing him about, but he decided it wasn’t worth it. Yusuke, with all his perfectionist charm, would never settle for anything less than exactly the picture in his mind’s eye. Besides, Akira was already thanking his lucky stars that Yusuke hadn’t put up more of a fuss about him choosing to keep his dark blue briefs very comfortably settled on his hips. As close as he and Yusuke had grown over the past few months, Akira did _not_ think they had reached the point that a nude portrait wouldn’t be incredibly awkward.

Once Yusuke stopped moving him around and stood back to admire the pose he’d chosen, Akira was sat with one leg folded beneath him, leaning back and supporting his weight with his hands on the bed behind him. All things considered, it was a much tamer pose than Akira might’ve expected from Yusuke, but then again, maybe that wasn’t quite fair. After all, Akira hadn’t seen any other portraits done by Yusuke, so just because his friend was so concerned about painting _nude_ portraits didn’t mean that his work was automatically going to be risqué.

“There. Stay just like that.” Yusuke said before hustling over to his supplies and pulling a folded easel out of his bag, wrestling it up into a standing position.

Sighing, Akira took a moment to wonder why Yusuke hadn’t set up _before_ having Akira pose. While it was a pretty natural way to sit, he was near sure it wouldn’t take more than 30 minutes before his arms would start protesting holding up half his weight.

Seeming to read his mind, Yusuke said, “Let me know if you need a break. It’ll be tough to get you back into the perfect position again since you’re not a professional, but I don’t want you uncomfortable either.”

And wasn’t _that_ passive aggressive, Akira thought to himself, having to consciously refrain from reaching up to play with his hair. Well, if Yusuke so obviously thought it’d be more trouble than it was worth getting Akira back in the proper pose, then Akira would just have to get through this without a break. _Challenge accepted_ , Akira thought with a smirk.

Yusuke was just about done setting up, canvas on the easel and a pencil in his hand, no paints in sight. At Akira’s confused look, Yusuke gave him a small smile before explaining, “I’m going to draw you today. As long as my base sketch is decent enough, I will be able to paint over it without your assistance.”

“Sounds good,” Akira said.

Despite the growing discomfort of his pose, Akira found himself all but dozing off. There didn’t seem to be any want of Yusuke’s to converse while he drew, as he was completely immersed in his work. 

Time moved on. And on and on. Yusuke didn’t seem any less involved in his drawing than he had been what felt like hours ago, but Akira was starting to get fidgety.

His arms were holding up surprisingly well compared to what he’d expected, and he had already made a mental note to thank Ryuji and Ann for spending so much time training with him. Unfortunately though, there was something else that was grabbing his attention and refusing to let go.

He’d been down working in the cafe all morning … a task that had included both helping Sojiro and drinking many cups of coffee. After all, the café opened earlier than Akira ever really wanted to get up on a day off, but he had wanted to work to make up for not being around much. Sojiro really did a lot, and Futaba certainly couldn’t help out and so it fell to Akira. Not that he was complaining—not at all. He had just had too many cups of coffee and hadn’t had a moment to use the bathroom before Yusuke showed up and now he was here stuck sitting on the bed, determined not to ask for a break, especially with Yusuke working so diligently.

However, a sharp pang of pressure in his bladder urged Akira to break the silence with a question.

“How much longer do you think this will take?”

“Do you need a break?” Yusuke asked, pencil stilling where it rested on the canvas.

“Ah, no, I was just wondering,” Akira trailed off.

“We’ve barely been here an hour,” Yusuke said with a frown. “My sketches don’t take terribly long, but I’d say if you don’t want to model for me at another time, another hour at the least, though I’d estimate closer to two.”

“Two hours?” Akira gasped, his bladder spasming as if in response.

Nodding, Yusuke said, “Yes, but you can take a break at any time.”

Despite Yusuke repeating this sentiment again in that matter-of-fact tone of his, Akira could swear that his expression was one of displeasure. Granted, Akira knew very well he could be imagining it and that Yusuke was absolutely serious that a break wouldn’t be a problem, but the last thing  Akira wanted to do was irritate his friend.

And so he would refuse a break. At least, he would until Yusuke needed to take a break himself. Surely Yusuke, who was almost always the first one who needed to leave a given palace for the bathroom even if he refused to admit it, would need to take a break before the next two hours were up.

 

\---

 

Akira had been right, of course. Yusuke absolutely would have to pee before he was done with his drawing. What Akira had not accounted for, however, was Yusuke’s stubbornness. Apparently, it didn’t matter to Yusuke if he was reflexively shifting from foot to foot as long as his hand remained steady enough to draw. In fact, it almost seemed as if Yusuke didn’t notice his legs moving at all.

Akira, on the other hand, was acutely aware of how the waistband of his own briefs was stretched over the growing bulge of his bladder. After all, there wasn’t much else to distract him, and he took a moment to mourn the fact that he hadn’t thought to put on a movie before Yusuke got started.

Then again, he wasn’t even sure if a movie would’ve been enough to distract him from the distress of his throbbing bladder. He didn’t dare move his head to look down at his abdomen for fear that Yusuke would scold him, but his face grew hot with the knowledge that Yusuke could probably see quite easily how bloated his stomach had become over the course of the afternoon.

His hips begged to squirm; his hands begged to grab himself; his legs twitched inwards, wanting to close, to let his thighs squeeze and rub together to relieve just a bit of the torturous pressure. As much as he resisted, he couldn’t stop his fingers from drumming on the bed behind him, hoping the nervous twitches were subtle enough as to not bother Yusuke.

Yusuke didn’t look much better off, though. Watching him was doing nothing for Akira’s own situation—he was practically dancing behind his easel, chewing on his bottom lip and had the hand not holding his pencil pushed deep into his pocket.

A sudden spasm had Akira gasping, his hand twitching on the bed behind him as he used every bit of his willpower to keep from grabbing himself. Stopping himself though made it impossible for him to prevent a leak, the tiniest dark spot appearing on the front of his briefs. It was at this point that Akira realized he should’ve given in ages ago and taken that offered break.

He wanted so badly to ask for one now, but he was sure it was too late. Not in that Yusuke wouldn’t let him leave, but considering he’d already leaked and his bladder felt like a water balloon about to pop, he doubted he’d so much as be able to stand up without wetting himself, not to mention get dressed and go all the way downstairs to the restroom. Plus, there were bound to be customers in the café and Sojiro certainly wouldn’t appreciate them all seeing the delinquent living in the attic waddling down with his hands between his legs.

It was undoubtedly too late for him now, Akira realized. The best he’d be able to do would be get off his bed before losing control of his bladder. But _Yusuke_ , on the other hand…Yusuke was still squirming, but seemed determined to finish his sketch before giving in to his own needs.

Vision growing fuzzy in his desperation, Akira looked around the room trying to find something—anything—he could use as a makeshift toilet. It wasn’t until he looked to his right at the garden pot tucked away behind his shelves. _The plant_. Akira couldn’t believe he was considering it. He couldn’t believe he’d even _thought_ of it, but there was nothing else in the room that wouldn’t need extensive cleaning were he to pee in or on it, and there was no way some urine would kill such a large plant, especially with how carefully he’d been caring for it for months now.

But then again, if he _did_ harm the plant, he’d never forgive himself. It didn’t deserve such treatment, and again, he’d been growing it for months, buying the best plant food money could get him and watering it every day and…

It was pointless thinking that way, anyway. There was no chance Akira would be able to pee in a plant if Yusuke was still in the room.

Another spurt of urine wet the inside of his briefs, and Akira let out a tiny whine, clenching his fingers even more tightly into the bedsheets. His eyes darted back to Yusuke, but if Yusuke _had_ heard his loss of composure, he was doing a good job hiding it. Granted, Akira was sure Yusuke was more concerned with his own discomfort at this point, as he’d crossed his legs tightly and was bending his knees so quickly he looked to be hopping in place. How he was still getting a decent drawing with all that movement Akira had no clue.

“Yusuke,” Akira squeaked out before clearing his throat and repeating himself.

“Hmm?” Yusuke said without taking his eyes off the canvas.

“You look like you could use a break,” Akira suggested.

“I’m quite all right,” Yusuke murmured. Akira couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes, even as he had to bite his lip to muffle a gasp. His bladder was so full and all he wanted to do was empty it why did Yusuke have to be so _stubborn_.

“Well then, _I_ need a break,” Akira said, finally giving in.

Still without looking up, Yusuke said, “Is it possible you could wait five more minutes? I’m nearly done.”

_Five minutes. Okay. You can wait five more minutes._ Despite Akira trying to reassure himself, there was still a part of him—the part that was very intimately connected to the constant pressure stretching his bladder—that insisted he very much could not.

“Akira?” Oh. He hadn’t actually answered Yusuke.

“I can wait,” he said, voice breathy in his desperation. Again though, if Yusuke noticed the oddness of his tone, he did a very good job in hiding any sort of reaction. He just turned right back to his canvas, the scratching of his pencil going ever faster. Whether his speed was due to him becoming more aware of his own need after the interruption or for Akira’s sake was unclear, but either way, Akira was grateful for it.

An eternity later (or three minutes; Akira wasn’t sure which), Yusuke suddenly gasped loudly, bending forward at the waist. Both of his hands were clenched at his sides and Akira was worried for the sake of his pencil, surely at risk of being snapped if Yusuke’s whitening knuckles were any indication of the tightness of his fists.

“Finished,” Yusuke choked out, even as he was bent nearly in half and stepping quickly from foot to foot.

“Oh, thank God,” Akira groaned. He couldn’t wait for Yusuke to leave, couldn’t even get enough of his brain cells together to ask him to turn around and give him some privacy. Really, Akira wasn’t even worrying about that now, his mind thoroughly focused on the thought of relief and relief _only_.

Standing up was a task in and of itself. Gravity pulled down on his bladder and made a sharp wave of pain overcome him. If he were any weaker, Akira knew his floor would’ve been flooded in that moment, but he was just barely able to hang on, grabbing himself with one hand while grabbing his waistband with the other. He took a few stumbling steps across the room until he was standing in front of his plant with his briefs pulled down just enough to prevent getting them wet.

Legs shaking with the intensity of his desperation, Akira was trying to relax enough to finally pee, but it felt as if his bladder was locking up, refusing to let out any of the liquid filling it, feeling so close to exploding that Akira couldn’t help but let out a frustrated cry.

“Oh please please I have to go so _badly_ why is this happening,” he muttered to himself, desperately trying to force his bladder to expel its contents to no avail. The absolute last thing he wanted to do was go to the hospital because he waited to pee for so long that he was literally unable to go, but the pain and pressure was truly beginning to overwhelm him, and he was sure he’d go crazy if he wasn’t able to get relief soon.

Just then, he heard a hissing sound from his right which was accompanied a few seconds later by a soft pattering on the wood floor. Glancing over, he saw, despite his blurred vision, dark streaks down Yusuke’s pants and a rapidly expanding puddle under his shoes, and Akira wasn’t sure if it was the sight or the sound or a combination of the two that triggered it, but _finally_ , with a muscle contraction so powerful that it had him suddenly bending forward, his bladder obeyed his pleas.

A few drops slowly turned into a weak stream and he _still wasn’t getting any relief_ , but  the more he was able to let out, the stronger the stream became until the blissful feeling of his bladder emptying hit him. Akira dropped to his knees with the force of it, unable to keep standing on legs trembling so strongly. Flopping sideways against the wall, he gave up entirely on keeping his floor clean (besides, he’d already have to clean up after Yusuke, so what did it matter anymore), making an impressive puddle of his own.

Once it was over, Akira put a shaking hand over his abdomen. His bladder was sore and aching and Akira absolutely didn’t want to move for the rest of the night. He had barely enough energy to turn his head to look over at Yusuke.

Yusuke, to his credit, looked mortified at the entire situation. He had buried his face in his hands, and Akira could see the bright red tips of his ears poking out between the strands of his hair.

“Akira, I—I am so ashamed. I’ll show myself out.”

Yusuke was halfway down the stairs before Akira got enough air in his lungs to call out to him.

“Yusuke, wait!” Stumbling to his feet, he tucked himself back into his soaked briefs.

“Oh, of course. I’ll clean your room first; how could I be so scatterbrained?” Despite seeming more muted than his usual eccentric self, Yusuke’s tone was normal. Considering he had just wet his pants he had been so desperate, Akira couldn’t understand why Yusuke didn’t seem more affected by his own relief. To each his own, he supposed, but Akira was still reveling in the sore emptiness in his abdomen and felt bad that Yusuke’s own relief was clearly being overshadowed by his embarrassment and sorrow.

“No, don’t worry about that,” Akira said after taking a moment to gather his thoughts. “Come change into clean clothes.”

“Ah, I can’t walk through LeBlanc like this! I would disturb and disgust all of the customers, and then I’d surely be banned from the building. As I said—scatterbrained,” Yusuke said, knocking a fist lightly against the side of his head.

Rolling his eyes, Akira turned away to dig in his dresser. After digging out his largest pair of sweats and the newest pair of boxers he could find, he turned to Yusuke to find him already stripped down to his underwear.

“I really am so sorr—”

“Stop apologizing. I made just as big of a mess as you did, you know,” Akira sighed. He went back to pulling out clothes as Yusuke changed behind him, tossing a t-shirt at his friend as well when he found one he thought might just be baggy enough to cover the taller boy’s entire torso.

Once they were both in clean, dry clothes, Akira dug around through the attic until he found a pile of towels in a back corner. Throwing them on the puddles, he turned to look at Yusuke, who was still standing awkwardly at the top of the stairs, fiddling with his fingers as he watched Akira.

Akira broke the silence first. “Have any plans for the rest of the night?”

“I—no.”

It was at that moment that Sojiro’s rough voice came floating up the stairs. “Hey, I’m closing up!”

“Good night, Sojiro,” Akira called back.

The two boys stood in silence, listening to Sojiro’s footsteps fading before hearing the telltale slam that came with the door shutting after his exit.

“Well, you’re welcome to stay here. I’m sure you know, but there’s a cheap bathhouse and laundromat right across the street. Plus, I think you owe me fare for at least one load of laundry, because all these towels are not going to fit in the same washer.”

“Of course,” Yusuke said, gaze directed at the floor.

“I’m joking. That was a joke. I want you to stay because you’re my friend, not so you can pay for my laundry.”

Yusuke perked right up then, expression akin to a puppy being praised. “That’s great news! I brought another documentary for just such an occasion!”

“How about we get cleaned up first and then we can talk about watching the documentary?”

 

\---

 

“So does that happen often? You refusing to take a break until you wet yourself?”

Akira doesn’t think he has ever seen someone’s face turn so red so fast.

“It…has happened before. I don’t know if I’d say _often_.”

“But more than once?”

“Yes.”

Both boys were settled in the steaming water of the bathhouse. Even though it wasn’t too late, the building was empty. Akira knew not to expect it to stay that way for long, but he wanted to get this conversation over with during a time when it wasn’t very easy for Yusuke to escape.

“I wish you didn’t do that to yourself.”

“It is quite disgusting, isn’t it?” Yusuke gave him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“That’s not why it bothers me,” Akira said, shaking his head. “It bothers me because you’re uncomfortable and suffering and there’s no need for it. Drawings, paintings…those are things you can come back to. Don’t you think your work would be better if you could focus entirely on what you were doing and not how badly you need the bathroom?”

“You did the same,” Yusuke mumbled, voice weak, as if he wanted to defend himself but didn’t truly believe his own argument.

“Yeah, I guess I did, and you know what? I wouldn’t do it again. I _won’t_ do it again, because if you’re okay with it, I’d love to model for you again in the future and I promise I won’t deny a break if I need one.”

“Oh, I would love to draw you again!”

“Good.” Akira stood, stepping out of the bath before offering a hand to Yusuke. “Let’s go home. We have a documentary to watch.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! <3 I am forever taking omo-related requests on my tumblr at sennaleee.tumblr.com


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